Page 58 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“What else?”
Outside, the sun had begun to set, and for the first time in weeks, Tyler felt like he was finally seeing instead of just documenting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The morning at the Beach Shack started deceptively well. Anna had arrived early, determined to finish her painting before the Beach Shack opened. She’d even set an alarm on her phone—pack up by opening, no excuses.
But the light kept shifting, and every new reflection revealed something she couldn’t leave unfinished. By 9:30, she was still painting, but this time she looked genuinely conflicted about it.
“I know I said I’d clear everything,” she said to Stella, brush hovering uncertainly over her canvas. “I just need five more minutes. I swear. The light is perfect right now, but after this I’ll pack up properly.”
Bea spread watercolor supplies across a corner table, but kept them contained to one area. Joey practiced his Pageant poses during brief lulls, but managed to stay functional.
“This feels almost normal,” Stella observed, refilling coffee for Bernie, who was updating his betting pools with cautious optimism.
“Don’t jinx it,” Bernie warned. “The day is young.”
Meg appeared at nine-thirty, laptop bag slung over her shoulder and phone already pressed to her ear, but this time she approached Anna directly.
“How’s it going? Do you need help clearing anything before the rush hits?” she asked, ending her call.
Anna looked up gratefully. “Actually, yes. Could you help me move these brushes? I want to get them away from the coffee station.”
Tyler texted earlier.
Major Festival installation emergency. Sculptor’s piece fell over, need to document everything for insurance. Will check in later.
So it was Stella, Joey, Margo in the kitchen, and two sisters who were, for once, actually trying to coordinate.
The morning rush proceeded with manageable chaos. Anna painted while intermittently taking orders, but this time she kept checking with Meg about where supplies should go. When Mrs. Borden asked for extra napkins, Anna handed her clean ones from the dispenser, paint brush carefully set aside.
“You know,” Joey said quietly to Stella as they passed near the register, “this is starting to feel like that thing where you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Don’t say that,” Stella warned. “You’ll summon something.”
At 9:45, as if summoned by Joey’s prophetic observation, a woman in a crisp county health department blazer stepped through the front door. She carried a clipboard, wore the expression of someone who’d seen every possible food service violation, and moved like someone on official business.
“Health inspection,” she announced to the suddenly silent dining room. “I’m Inspector Martinez. I’ll need to speak with the manager.”
Stella felt her stomach drop. Anna and Meg exchanged a look of mutual panic.
“That would be me,” Margo said calmly, appearing from the kitchen. “Margo Turner.”
“Routine inspection, Mrs. Turner. I’ll need access to all food preparation areas, storage, and dining spaces.” Inspector Martinez was already making notes. “Please continue normal operations.”
“Of course,” Anna said immediately, beginning to gather her supplies. “I’ll just move these?—“
“Please don’t disturb your normal operations,” Inspector Martinez said. “I need to see how you typically function.”
Anna froze, paintbrush in hand, looking helplessly at the art supplies that were still scattered around despite her good intentions.
Inspector Martinez approached the coffee station, where Anna’s paint brushes—the ones she’d been trying to relocate—were still soaking in jars that looked identical to the ones they used for stirring drinks.
“Are these art supplies?” the inspector asked.
“Festival preparation,” Meg said quickly. “We’re supporting the local arts community. Anna’s been working on her submission, but we were just moving everything to?—“
“I need to see your current setup,” Inspector Martinez interrupted, making notes.
